When The Grinch Comes To You
by nurzubesuch
Summary: It's Christmas time and there are killings that trouble the police beyond believe. The killer comes through the chimney as it seems. Not even Shawn knows what all this is about. Or does he guess it after all?
1. The Chimney Killer

**When the Grinch comes to you**

When they approached the house in which the murder had been committed, Shawn could feel the pressure. It lay all over the place. Everybody was silent. The police officers as well as the forensic guys. They all felt the shadow that lay over this case. Sure it was always depressing to work on a murder around Christmas time, but this was even worse than that. This was no ordinary murder. None of them was.

Halfway on the way between the crime scene tape and the front door of the house, Shawn felt a hand on his arm, that stopped him in his tracks. He turned around and looked into the pale face of his friend Gus. In this moment the word pale was absolutely no joke. He looked awful, as if he was close to get really sick. It wasn´t just the simple fact that a human being had lost his life in there. This was something they all were used to see. But this series of murders was something worse than that.

„I can´t." Gus told him with a choked voice. „Sorry, Shawn but …"

„Its all right." Shawn replied and this time he really meant it.

He could understand his friend´s reluctance to see what was in there. They had seen the other victims and it had been almost more than even Shawn could stand. Gus stomach was much less strong and when even some of the forensic people had had to vomit, how could someone except a guy like Gus to enter a house that contained a body, that was left behind by the Chimney killer. That was the name the newspapers had given this sick bastard. It was unbelievable how much attention something as cruel as this could get especially around the holidays. The holiday that should be dedicated to love. This year it was dedicated to blood and slaughter.

Shawn reached the doorstep of the house. He stopped for a moment. He knew it probably was a mistake to stop. It gave him time to reconsider his determination to enter and face it. But he just needed to take a breath before he actually could do it. He had gotten used to a lot over the years but this guy had raised murder to a new level. Considering this it was almost a miracle that Gus still came even close to the houses with him and didn´t just refuse to come in the first place. But of course Shawn knew why he still came. Because he wanted to help. To do everything he could no matter how less it was, to help catching this murderer – and keeping another poor sole from being slaughtered.

It had started two weeks ago and this guy had already killed four times. Each victim worse than the former. Each victim found in front of the chimney, covered in blood and dust from the fireplace. As if the murderer had come through the chimney. Like a bloody Santa Clause. The papers had written the most unbelievable horrorstories about the crime scenes, some of them worth an award in creative writing. But all this stories came down to one catharsis. The victims had been murdered cruel and bestial. And the murderer was still on the loose.

Shawn was about to enter the house when Juliet came out. She looked as pale as almost everybody who was around. When she saw him her eyes lit up but just for a moment. They immediately switched back to that sad and shocked expression she had worn when she had stepped out of the door.

„That bad?" Shawn asked her.

„Worse." she answered. „Shawn. Its a boy. He was eight years old."

Shawn felt his guts drop down to the deepest point. So far the victims had been adults. Two women, one middle aged and a younger stay home mom, and an old man. The youngest had been a nineteen year old student who had been home for vacation. But an eight year old kid. Shawn threw a glance through the door into the living room. Lassiter was standing there. So far the sofa was in the way and blocked Shawn´s vision to what was lying on the floor, but he saw the detective´s expression. It wasn´t pretty. As if he had felt Shawn´s gaze on him, Lassiter turned around and their eyes met. Now Shawn knew that it wasn´t pretty. Lassiter looked as sick as all the others and that was more than Shawn needed to know. He could see in Lassiter´s eyes how much he hated it to be in this house. How much he hated what he saw.

„I´ll go and check the exterior of the house." Juliet said. She sounded apologetic, the same way Gus had sounded when he had told him he couldn´t go closer. Shawn nodded understanding and she almost broke into tears. He pulled her in and hugged her. She hugged him back almost fiercely and this told him that she had really really needed this. When he released her again, she looked a little better. She nodded as if to say: I can handle this alone from here.

He watched her walking down the path for a moment. She reached Gus and they spoke a few words. She must have told him who the victim was, because a second later Gus was the one who started to cry and she was the one who had to help out with a hug. If the circumstances had been different Shawn would have gotten the giggles over this picture. Jules holding Gus and wagging him like a crying child. But the circumstances were too serious for giggles.

He turned around and prepared himself to enter the house. And then he did. Lassiter was already waiting for him. Shawn had thought he had steeled himself against whatever he would see, but when he rounded the sofa and his eyes caught the body that lay in front of the chimney he almost lost the ground beneath his feet. The sight was so cruel and disturbing that he actually swayed and probably would have fallen if Lassiter hadn´t lend him a hand.

„Easy." the detective said. „Take your time."

Shawn gasped. He wanted to look away but he couldn´t. In this moment it was good that Lassiter was still holding him, otherwise he might have fallen down without noticing it before he actually hit the ground.

„Spencer." he heard the detective´s voice calling him.

The hand on his arm shook him and Shawn realized that Lassiter had already addressed him several times. Finally he could look away from the distorted body and into the eyes of Lassiter. The usually so stern blue eyes of the older man were filled with empathy now. They were asking him if he was all right. Shawn managed it to nod and gave Lassiter´s arm a grateful squeeze. The detective nodded back at him and carefully released Shawn´s arm. He managed it to stand on his own.

„The victims name was Jimmy Anderson." Lassiter told him after another moment. „Eight years old." His voice was low and quiet. Even the great head detective Carlton Lassiter was no robot that was immune against a scene as terrible as this. „The parents woke up from the scream." he went on. „When they came down, barely a minute later, everything was over. No signs of forced entry, no … tracks that would tell us where the killer went."  
>„The chimney?" Shawn asked toneless.<p>

„Closed." Lassiter said. „Its not even in use. So even if it could be anything about this theory of the papers that the killer truly came through there …" he pointed up the chimney. „In this case it was impossible."

Shawn just shook his head. „It doesn´t make any sense." he said.

„What else is new?" Lassiter replied. They stood there in silence for a moment, just looking down on the dead boy. At last Lassiter shook his head. „If we don´t get something very soon, Spencer, I swear to you I go postal on something. We have absolutely no lead and this bastard just keeps killing. In the name of sweet lady justice, give me something to catch that guy. I want him in a cell or dead, Spencer, so help me god."

„Me too, Lassie." Shawn agreed.

„Then help me. Tell me how he gets into the houses without braking the door or a window. Tell me how he kills his victims so fast and … so brutal and how he can escape within seconds without being seen or heard. How is he doing it? Even at night someone would notice a guy that runs around all bloody, carrying body parts with him."

„I don´t know." was all the answer Shawn was able to give.

„I can´t accept that." Lassiter snapped. „There must be something. Go on. Do whatever it is you do and tell me what I want to know. Because I´m not willing to accept this outrageous idea of a monster that comes down the chimneys to eat people."

„You must admit that is the most convincing theory so far." Shawn joked but there was no humor in his voice. Reluctantly he added: „After all there was a mark."

Lassiter growled. „This was at the third crime scene." he recalled. „After the papers had started to write about this ridiculous ideas. He read it and left this to fool us."

„You sure about this?" Shawn asked.

„Spencer, you can´t be serious about this. I totally agree that whoever did this was a monster. But it is a monster in human form and I want to take him down. So you can either help me doing this or you can leave."

Shawn took another deep breath. Then he looked all over the place, trying to focus. He wanted to help.

...

It was eight o´clock in the evening. The dinner was long over and the only sound in the house was the TV that showed the maybe hundredth rerun of a cartoon about the Grinch trying to steal Christmas. The tone was quiet. No need for higher volume. Shawn knew the little piece by heart anyway. Usually he would enjoy to watch it now, especially since he spent the Christmas eve at his dad´s where he had spent it all his childhood long. He had already watched this cartoon back then and watching it again brought the old feeling back every time. But not today. His thoughts were still in another house. A house where tonight no one would enjoy Christmas eve. A house where the little kid that had lived there, would never ever be able to enjoy Christmas eve.

He really had tried. He had tried to find something. Something that the forensic guys had overlooked. A spot, a piece of junk that lay in the wrong place, even a suspicious dust bunny. But there had been nothing. Nothing but blood and a torn apart body that once had been a boy. A boy who would never celebrate his ninth birthday.

Shawn sighed and covered his face in his palms. Lassiter had been right when he had thrown him out. He had asked him for his help and what had he provided? Nothing. For the first time in his life Shawn wished that Lassiter would have yelled at him. But the detective had talked in a low tone, out of respect for the still present dead. But this low tone had been worse than any yelling could have been. Shawn had never felt so useless on a crime scene.

The TV went black and Shawn looked up. His dad threw the remote down on the table and took a seat next to him on the sofa. Usually Shawn would have protested against his dad just switching off his TV program. But not today. There was no point in protesting against anything. Henry knew that.

„Shawn, what are you doing?" his father sighed.

„What do you mean?"

Instead of an answer Henry threw a look at the newspaper that lay on the coffeetable. Of course. The headline read: _Chimney killer did it again_. It was impossible to get away from that.

„You still think about it, don´t you?" Henry asked and Shawn could almost feel the accusation in his fathers question.

„You didn´t see the victim." he said weak but defensive.

„No, I didn´t." Henry agreed. „And I wish you hadn´t either. Not today."

„I guess it would have looked the same way no matter on what day." Shawn snapped.

Henry just looked at him. Not accusing but understanding. „You will catch him." he foretold his son. „You will. But not today."

„What if I can´t?" Shawn asked.

„You will." was all Henry said. „And don´t you dare starting to believe what these gossip reporters come up with. Did you read what they advised people to?"

„Yeah. To block their chimneys."

„Stupid crap." Henry snapped. „As if there was really something coming down there."

Shawn managed a halfhearted smirk but it vanished as quickly as he had forced it to come.

„There have always been murderers who had been more clever than others." Henry now told him. „Criminals who know how to avoid clues and evidence. But at the end they always make a mistake. You´ll catch him."

„I don´t know." Shawn sighed and buried his face in his hands once again. „I´m not so sure anymore."

„About what?"

There was a long pause in which Shawn tried not to freak out over the look of his dad´s old chimney. The chimney with the socks hanging over the fireplace. The chimney with the fish and starfish on the rim. The chimney he had looked up when he was five to see if Santa Clause was already on the way. The same kind of chimney the five victims had had in their houses. Only that their fireplaces had been much smaller. And some of them had been barred. Shawn remembered that one of the victims, the old man, had had marks in his skin, that indicated that he had been pressed against those bars … or dragged into them, when something tried to pull him to the other side.

Shawn jumped up. He didn´t even realize that he had done so until his dad stood next to him, grabbing his shoulder and asking if he was all right. Of course Henry had to know that he wasn´t. He had to feel the shaking in his son´s shoulder. But he accepted it when Shawn said, that he was fine. Just asked him if he wanted a beer, probably knowing that Shawn would need one now. He brought two back from the kitchen. One for Shawn and one for himself.

„How can someone be that good." Shawn asked after a while. „I mean … the cops checked every door and every window of the houses he was in. There were no signs of forced entry. How is that possible dad?"

„I don´t know. But there are many possibilities. Maybe he got himself some keys. Maybe he works for a lockout service. Or … I don´t know, he gets hand on the peoples keys another way and makes himself a waxcast. You never know."

„I _don´t_ know." Shawn said once again. „Dad, I´m scared. I mean really. I … I just don´t know anymore."

„What don´t you know?" Henry asked.

„I don´t know what I´m chasing here."

Henry gave his son a long look. „You are chasing a murderer, Shawn." he then said. „Like always."

He patted his son´s shoulder and then stood up. „I´ll do the dishes now." he said. „You want another beer?"

„No."

„Okay then." Henry said and left for the kitchen, leaving Shawn behind to sit on his own. Face to face with this goddamn chimney he had looked up as a five year old to see if Santa Clause was on his way. Now he had the bad feeling that something else was on the way. Nothing as friendly as good old Santa. Suddenly he had the picture of the Grinch in his mind. The Grinch that came down the chimney in his Santa Clause disguise and grabbed the little boy that was just looking up this very chimney, to pull him up. Up and away, to a place where he could eat this boy up undisturbed.

Shawn shivered. This was ridiculous. There was no such thing as monsters. Especially no monsters that lived in the chimney. The Grinch was not real. He was just a figure from a fairy-tale parents told their children. A character in a film Jim Carry once had portrayed in a hilarious way. But he was not real. And even if he would be, he was only known for stealing presents and maybe destroying a Christmas tree. He was not known for killing, especially not in such a bestial way.

A guttural howling sound came out of the chimney and Shawn jumped up with a gasping scream.

„Shawn!" Henry cried and came rushing in, his hands covered with soap water. „Shawn, what happened?"

Shawn was staring into the chimney. There it was again. The deep and growling sound he had heard. The sound of the wind that blew though the chimney pot. A sound Shawn had known for years since he could remember. A sound he had thought had stopped scaring him since he had turned seven.

„Its nothing." he finally answered his dad´s question. But of course Henry had already gotten the idea himself.

„Maybe you should lay down for a while." he suggested.

„No." Shawn denied. „I think I should call Lassie."

„Lassiter? Why that?"

„I don´t know. I just …"

Henry made a dismissing sound, knowing that he couldn´t reason with his son anyway. If he wanted to think about this case, he wouldn´t stop until an atomic war broke loose. So he went back into his kitchen to finish his dishes and Shawn, taking out his cell phone, went out to the porch. For some reason he couldn´t stand it in there any longer. Not with this chimney staring at him.

He pressed Lassiter´s button and speed dialed the detective´s number. Usually he would probably prefer to call Gus or Juliet to talk to either of them about his troubled mind. But he was pretty sure they were already celebrating Christmas with their folks by now. Lassie on the other hand … he answered after the third ring.

„Lassiter."

„Lassie." Shawn cried trying to sound more joyful than he felt. „Hey."

„Spencer." was the usual and neutral response. He didn´t hung up and he didn´t yell at him what the hell he wanted. Was that a good sign?

„Listen, Lassie." Shawn said. „Its about the case."

„Did you find something?" Lassiter asked eagerly and this change in the detective´s mode startled Shawn a little.

„Its probably nothing." he admitted. „Just something my dad said to me. About the guy getting into the houses without leaving traces … He said he might have copied the keys somehow … or that he could work for a lockout service. You know …"

„You were right, Spencer, that was nothing." Lassiter sounded disappointed. „I´ve already been there after the second victim. But thanks for sharing."

„Well …" Shawn felt embarrassed again.

„Is there anything else?" Lassiter asked.

Shawn felt as useless as before. „No." he said.

There was a brief silence on the other end. Maybe Lassiter had gotten the tone in Shawn´s voice. Eventually he said: „Listen, Spencer. About earlier today … That I let you lead off the crime scene. That was inappropriate."

Shawn blinked in disbelieve. „Did you just apologize to me, Lassie?"

„I wouldn´t go that far." Lassiter replied.

„Lassie-scrooge." Shawn grinned. „Have you been visited by three ghosts tonight?"

„Funny, Spencer." Lassiter said. „All I wanted to say with that is … I don´t blame you that you didn´t find anything today. No one found anything so far. Its not your fault. The only reason why I was so on the edge is all this nonsense the papers made up about monsters and all. It was not because of you. Not this time at least."

„Lassie." Shawn interrupted the startling speech. „Have you been drinking?"

„Maybe." Lassiter admitted. „A little. But not so much that I wouldn´t know anymore what I´m talking about. Not yet."

Shawn couldn´t help but smiled. For the first time today he felt a little better. „Apology accepted." he said.

„Good. Then let me keep drinking now. Maybe I will forget that I ever said this."

Shawn had just opened his mouth to give a teasing response to that, when he heard a bloodcurdling scream from inside the house. He swirled around so fast that he almost swirled too far and lost his balance.

„Spencer, what the hell was that?" Lassiter barked on the phone.

But Shawn didn´t hear him anymore. All he heard were the screams of his dad, that were so full of terror and mortal agony that it barely sounded human anymore. He dropped his cell phone and ran back into the house. He didn´t know what he expected to find in there. He only knew that his dad would never scream that awfully if he´d just injured himself in the kitchen or something as simple as that. Not even if he´d been shot. Not even …

Over the screams Shawn could hear another sound now. A much deeper sound that was not, could not be human. He ran faster. When he bend around the corner he almost slipped on the loose carpet that lay in the hallway. But he caught himself, jumped around the corner into the sitting room … and froze. What he saw made him doubt everything he had ever believed to be true all his life. Worse. It almost made him lose his mind. There was something clinging to his fathers legs, clawing into his flesh and pulling him up into the chimney. Something dark and hairy. Henry was still screaming. He tried to cling to the heel before the chimney, clinging to it for dear life. Behind him the thing that had him snarled in anger and hunger and pulled harder. There was blood all over Henry´s pants. His screams were so high and loud, Shawn wasn´t even sure if he was aware that he was there, staring at him. But then their eyes met and the curse that had frozen Shawn to the ground was broken.

Shawn lunged forward. A second before he reached him he saw a change in his father´s eyes. He wanted to open his mouth and yell at him not to, but Henry had already let go of the heel. The last thing Shawn heard was the satisfied snarl of the beast and Henry´s voice that cried for Shawn to run away, both vanishing somewhere up in the depth of the chimney.

His legs gave in and he fell to his knees in front of the fireplace. His whole body was shaking. He looked down on his hands that were dug in the ashes from the fireplace. Ashes and blood. His dad´s blood. He looked up when another sound came from the chimney. Another snarl. Still deep inside that black hole that had swallowed his dad. But closing in. It came back. Back for him.

Shawn screamed and struggled to his feet. He stumbled but somehow managed it to stand up again. The snarl was closer now. Shawn spun around and slipped over the coffee table. He rolled and hit his knee on something but he ignored the pain. All his mind was set to in this moment was running. Somewhere on the edge of his consciousness he still knew that there was a cell phone on the porch with Lassie in the line. But mostly he though about running. Running for dear life and not to stop before he was safe and out of reach of that thing. That thing that had carried away his dad. Up into the chimney. The same chimney Shawn had known his whole life. The same chimney he had looked up as a kid to see if Santa Clause was on the way.

He could hear the deep snarl again, much closer this time, when he reached the corner and when he reached the door he just knew that it was there in the same room again, looking for him. When it didn´t find him there it snarled in anger and started to pursue its fleeing prey. Shawn could feel that it was right behind him. He opened the door and ran out. Out into the night. The silent holy night of Christmas eve. Only this time the Grinch had succeeded in stealing it away. And he wasn´t finished yet.

Shawn ran. He was right behind him.


	2. Marks

**All right. This story was initially meant as a one-shot but some people seemed to expect a continuation, so here we go. Hope you like it. Reviews are welcome.**

* * *

><p><strong>Marks<strong>

Lassiter brought his car to a stop in front of Henry Spencer´s house. The tires were squeaking, leaving dark rubber marks on the pavement. Then he jumped out. He had gotten the call barely twenty minutes ago but it already felt as if an eternity had passed since then. Never in his life he had heard a scream like that. The detective pulled his gun when he approached the house. He might have lost his track of time but surely not for the seriousness of the situation. After hearing those screams, he expected almost everything. Almost. He had a guess what he would find in there and so he steeled himself for the worst possible sight.

He went inside through the front door. Sure he had called for backup but he wanted to be damned if he would wait for it. He had heard the screams, goddammit. Inside everything was quiet. As silent as it should be on Christmas eve. But on the other hand absolutely wrong too. This kind of silence was not peaceful. It spoke about something that had happened here. Something not very nice. Lassiter entered the sitting room. The place was a mess. Everything lay around as if a hurricane had blown through the house. Furnitures, pictures, the Christmas tree and Henry´s fish trophies. In front of the chimney there was a big mess of ashes and … blood.

Oh, god. No. Not this bastard. That was his signature. His special hallmark. So many times they had seen it over the last three weeks. And now he was here. The chimney killer. He must have known that Spencer was working the case, Lassiter thought. He must have known and now he came here to silence him. Maybe Shawn had been closer to the truth than he, Lassiter, had guessed. That at least was it, what the detective thought in this moment. The only thought his rational mind allowed him so far.

„Spencer?" he called out but of course got no answer.

He looked around in this mess. There were footprints in the ashes that led out of the room. Spencer´s footprints. The other marks on the floor, Lassiter attributed to pure spreading of the dirt. He had no time to think about it anyway. He rushed to the back door and out to the porch. Next to the door he found a cell phone. Spencer´s green cell with the ridiculous Psych writing on it. It was peeping quietly. The typical peeping of phones that were disconnected. Like an electrical cry for help after the owner couldn´t cry for himself any longer.

Lassiter made himself stop thinking something like that. His eyes went out to the garden and when he saw what was there he froze in shock for a second. The fence was trampled down. Just as if someone had shot a bazuka at it. There were also marks on the ground. Something had left deep tracks in the grass of Henry Spencer´s garden. The same something that had chased his son out of the house.

Lassiter left the porch and hurried out to the path that passed the Spencer property. It was deserted. Of course. It was almost midnight at Christmas eve and most people would be at home now, celebrating with their families. Everybody but mad serial killers, Lassiter added grimly. He could now hear the horns of the backup approaching the house.

„Spencer!" he yelled but again he got no answer.

Then he spotted another drag mark next to the path. As if someone had changed direction full speed and almost didn´t make it. He followed the way into that direction, hoping he would find Shawn and his pursuer somewhere along the way. And when he found this bastard then Spencer was better still alive. If he had killed him, he could hope for the mercy of god. Because if he had killed him he was more than just a murderer. Then he would be a copkiller and Lassiter would see to him being treated like one. Starting with himself.

While he followed the path he noticed that some of the people that lived there, were standing in their doors, looking out. Something must have drawn them out of their celebrations. Maybe they had heard Shawn´s screams. Knowing the man for over five years, Lassiter thought this quiet possible. He ran faster.

Eventually he reached the small market at the beachside. People were gathered there. Residents. Rubberneckers. Last strollers on the still open Christmas fair. Lassiter could also see an ambulance standing there. That was it what had attracted all their attentions.

„What happened here?" he asked when he reached the crowd.

But before someone could answer him, he had already spotted the pale figure that lay there on the ground. It was Shawn. His eyes were closed and his body limb. But the paramedics were just lifting him up onto a stretcher, an IV attached to his arm, so he had to be alive. Still, he looked more dead than alive.

Lassiter rushed over to the paramedics. „What´s the matter with him?" he demanded to know. „Detective Lassiter, S.B.P.D." he then introduced himself. „This man works for the department. What happened here?"

„We don´t know." the young man in the red and white uniform told him. „We got a call that someone had a seizure of some sort after he came running along, screaming as if the devil was after him. He was unconscious when we came here."

Lassiter swallowed and watched how the stretcher was shoved into the ambulance. „Will he be all right?" he asked as sternly as he could.

„I really can´t tell." the paramedic said. „Excuse me. We need to go."

„Where do you bring him?" Lassiter demanded to know.

„St. Thomas of the Apostles." was the answer and then the ambulance drove of.

Lassiter looked after it for a moment, still unable to understand what had just happened here. When he could think properly again he walked away from that crowd of rubberneckers and took his cell phone out. Unbelievable but his legs were shaking.

...

God, he hated hospitals. Especially around the holidays. These little decorations that were placed here and there made the sterile place look even more depressing. He had arrived just a few minutes ago but he was already on the edge. Spencer had been brought here much earlier. How came it that these doctors were still not done with him? How bad could it possibly be?

To distract his mind Lassiter thought back to the house. After he had called the chief to inform her what had happened – or about the little facts he knew about what had happened – he had gone back to the house and given orders to seal it for the investigation. That place was a crime scene now and as soon as he had Spencer´s statement, Lassiter would go back there to lead the investigation. This sick bastard wouldn´t get away. Not this time.

„Carlton." O´Hara´s voice echoed through the hallway.

Lassiter turned around and saw his partner rushing in his direction. Guster was following behind closely. Lassiter immediately raised his hands to calm them down, before they could run him over in their anxiety. He had called them somewhere between the market and the Spencer house. They both looked as if they had been dragged out of a nice evening on the sofa with a good book. And of course they were.

„What happened?" Guster wanted to know.

„Is Shawn all right?" O´Hara asked almost the same time.

„They are still working on him." Lassiter told them. „As far as I know, he is all right."

The two of them exhaled in relief. „What happened?" Guster asked again.

„I´m here to find that out." Lassiter replied. After a moment of consideration he told them: „Henry is dead. Or so it seems."

Both of them went pale at this message and Guster even looked as if he was about to faint. Lassiter told them the facts as best as he could but of course that didn´t help to improve their feelings of shock and disbelieve. When he was finished they both looked as sick as Shawn had looked when the paramedics had put him onto the stretcher.

„Did Shawn …" O´Hara asked. „Did he see how it happened?"

„I don´t know what he saw." Lassiter said. „It must have been pretty bad though. He´ll have to tell us."

As if that had been his cue the door behind them opened and an older man with white hair came out to them.

„Doctor." Juliet cried. „How is he? Is he all right?"

„Well, he is awake." the old man told them and they all exhaled in relief. „Physically he is all right." the doctor went on. „But he is in a serious state of mind. He is talking strange and woozily. We gave him a sedativa but …" he shook his head. „I´ll see to a psychologist that can have a look at him tomorrow."

„Can we talk to him?" Gus asked.

„I´m not sure if this is a good idea." the old doctor replied. „He is in a bad shape. He needs rest."

„He needs _us_." Gus cried angry.

Juliet lay a hand on his arm to calm him down. „We promise, we´ll make it quick." she assured the doctor.

„We need to ask him a few questions about what happened." Lassiter explained, dropping the authority card.

The old medic didn´t seem to be very impressed by that but he nodded anyway. It was Christmas after all. He guilt-tripped them to keep it short though. Guster walked through the door before he had even finished his last word, demonstrating how much he cared about his doctor´s orders.

The room lay in a semidarkness that seemed to be so typical for hospitals at such a late hour. A nurse was standing next to Shawn´s bed checking the patient´s IV one last time before she would leave him in peace for the rest of the night. Shawn was awake like the doctor had said. But it was also obvious that the hospital staff had drugged him into this calm state. When they entered the room, his eyes were glazed and when he turned his head to them, his movement was slow and swaying. He looked as if he was drunk.

„Shawn." Juliet addressed him first. She sat down on the edge of his bed and lay her hand in his. „Hey." she said with a smile. „How do you feel?"

He looked at her as if he didn´t know who she was, his eyes still glazed. He looked from her to Gus and there was still no change in his face. The two of them exchanged a worried glance.

„Nurse, would you mind?" Lassiter asked politely.

The woman in white nodded and then left the room quietly. Shawn´s head had turned into Lassiter´s direction at the sound of his voice. There was a slight frown on his forehead as if he tried to remember who´s voice he had just heard. Lassiter stepped a little closer so Shawn could see him better. Now he seemed to remember.

„What happened?" he asked looking from one of them to the other. „Why am I not dead?" He halted for a second, frowning again. „I´m not dead, am I?"

„No, Shawn." Juliet assured him with a choked voice and squeezed his hand. „You are fine. You are fine."

He looked up at her, his face a mask of pain. „Why?" he asked almost crying. „How?"

She wanted to say something but couldn´t. In seek for help she looked up to Gus.

„Its all right, Shawn." he said laying a hand on his friend´s shoulder. „You are in hospital."

„I know where I am." Shawn assured him, now a little clearer. He searched Lassiter´s gaze again. „What happened?" he mouthed.

Lassiter exchanged a glance with his partner and saw she was close to tears. He had to swallow before he could speak.

„Spencer … The paramedics found you unconscious. People said you were screaming … running away from something … someone I mean." He looked at the thoughtful face of the fake psychic. „Do you remember anything?" he asked.

Shawn gave a weak chuckle. „Oh, I remember." he said and much quieter he added: „As if I could ever forget that." His eyes were somewhere in the distance, glazed as before. Gus´ hand squeezed his shoulder to give him some comfort.

„What happened in your father´s house?" Lassiter asked now. When Shawn looked up, he dared to tell him: „There was blood … in front of the chimney."

„I know." was all Shawn said.

Again Lassiter looked at his partner for support. „Spencer …" he started but this time Shawn was faster.

„You don´t need to baby me, Lassie." he said. „I know he´s dead."

A heavy silence followed his words. Shawn closed his eyes tight to fight against the tears that wanted to come up behind them. His lips were a straight line.

„There was no body." Lassiter made himself to go on.

„No." Shawn agreed. „Can´t be. He ate him up. Whole. No, not he." he then corrected himself. „It. Because it wasn´t the Grinch."

„Shawn, what are you talking about?" Juliet asked now fighting back her own tears.

Instead of answering her question, Shawn looked at her with haunted eyes. Then he grabbed her arm so suddenly that she flinched back in shock. „You have a chimney in your place." he said. „Yes, you do. You have to block it. And you too, Gus. The chimney at your parents house. Tell them to seal it. And Lassie you have one too. You have to …"

„Spencer." Lassiter hissed. „Stop that."

„I think the chief has a chimney too." Shawn went on without paying attention. „Has she? We need to tell her to …"

„Spencer." Lassiter hissed again.

„You don´t understand." Shawn cried. „Its real. What the papers wrote is true. I didn´t want to believe it myself but I saw it. Not in a vision. With my own eyes. I. Saw. It."

„Shawn, you need to calm down." Gus said grabbing his friend´s shoulders.

„No, Gus." Shawn yelled. „You need to listen. I saw. Something. Swallowing my dad. Please you´ve got to believe me. I know what I saw. I´m not crazy. It will come back and eat us all if we don´t … if we don´t … No, dammit. I don´t need any more drugs." he now yelled at the nurse that had come back to set a new syringe at his IV.

„Go away with that." Shawn demanded and began to struggle. He would have ripped the IV out of his hand if it hadn´t been for Gus, who grabbed his hands and kept his friend from hurting himself.

„You need to calm down, Shawn." he tried to tell him. „We just want to help you."

„If you really want to help me, get me out of this bed." Shawn replied still struggling. „There is a monster on the loose. We need to do something."

„You see?" the doctor told them, standing at the foot of Shawn´s bed completely calm. „I told you not to excite him."

„I´m not crazy." Shawn yelled at the doctor furiously. „You hear me? I´m not CRAZY!"

„No one thinks that you´re crazy, Shawn." Gus said still holding him down.

„You hear that doc?" Shawn cried. „I have witnesses. Please, Gus. Don´t let them put me in a … padded room."

With that his eyes fell halfway shut and his struggling finally stopped. The sedativa was doing its work. A few minutes later he was fast asleep.

...

People always used to say that after a night of sleep and in the light of the new day, things would look better. It wasn´t true. The new daylight made the events from last night just more real, the mess around the Spencer house more clear and more awful to look at. As if the simple fact that there was yellow crime scene tape around and forensic people inside of Henry Spencer´s house wouldn´t be enough already. Now that it wasn´t covered by the darkness, Lassiter could even see that there was some of the ashes from the chimney on the porch. Shawn must have carried it out when he ran from his attacker.

He could also see the disturbed grass and the tracks in it. He saw it and he didn´t like the sight of it. Last night it had been bad to see it, but there he had been able to put it aside, knowing that there was something more important to do. Now he had the time to look at it and to actually think about what they were telling for a story. And then there was the smashed fence, of course. Lassiter had absolutely no idea what could have produced such a destruction. Not if he wanted to stay rational.

„I can´t believe this is really happening." O´Hara said next to him and he could only agree. „You think there is a chance that he is still …?" she asked.

„No." Lassiter immediately answered her. „Spencer … Shawn said that his father was dead."

„But … he was delusional." Juliet recalled. „Maybe …" in this moment she must have noticed something in Lassiter´s face, because she frowned at him startled. „He _was_ delusional, wasn´t he?" she asked him, almost begging for confirmation. „Carlton?"

Lassiter shook his head. „I … I talked to Shawn on the phone just before it happened." he said. „And I heard something. Something strange. I don´t know what it was. Probably just a disturbance in the line. But …"

„Dear god." she whispered.

„It was probably nothing." Lassiter said, more to soothe her than because he believed it. But what else could he believe? Surely not that he had heard the snarling of a monster, could he? O´Hara was right, Spencer had been delusional. He just had to be. If he couldn´t be sure of that he also had to admit to the possibility …

He made himself stop and turned his attention back to the crime scene. Because that was what it was now. A crime scene. A murder had happened here and it had been committed by a human being. And he would get him for that. The only odd thing was, that there was no body. Still Lassiter was sure that Henry Spencer indeed was dead. Shawn had been so convinced about that, he just couldn´t doubt this part of the story. He could doubt everything else but not this. After all, there was enough blood in front of the chimney to indicate that someone had been murdered. The lab was still due to confirm that it was Henry´s blood but again, Lassiter didn´t doubt that. If Henry was still alive he would be here somewhere, wouldn´t he? What brought him back to the first question: Where was the body?

„How could he carry away the whole body?" O´Hara now mused as if she had read her partner´s mind. „Usually he just took …" body parts was the rest of it but she couldn´t bring herself to finish this sentence.

Lassiter nodded. „I know." he said. „This is strange. Definitely an escalation."

„Not uncommon for serial killers." Juliet agreed.

Lassiter´s eyes were fixed on the porch again. On the marks of ashes that were there. „The chimney was much bigger than the others, wasn´t it?" he mused more to himself than to Juliet.

„What?" she asked confused.

He looked at her, realizing in what direction his thoughts had went. „Nothing." he claimed. „Just … thought out loud."

Next to them one of the forensics took pictures from the ground and the fence. Lassiter turned to him and asked: „What do you make out of these tracks?"

The man looked at the said marks and then said: „Could have been a motorcycle. Maybe the driver … made a turn and disturbed the ground that way. The son of the victim has a motorcycle, doesn´t he?"

„But he didn´t drive it last night." Juliet said. „And even if he had. He couldn´t have done this." she pointed at the destroyed fence.

The man with the CSI written on his cap just shrugged. „Then it was someone else´s bike." he said. „Maybe a bigger one than the victim has. He could have chased him with it and …"

„Yeah, sure." Lassiter snapped. „And he drove it right out of the chimney. If you don´t know all the facts you better keep your theories to yourself."

With that he walked off, leaving the startled man behind. O´Hara followed him not less startled than the CSI. She caught up with her partner when Lassiter stopped at the porch for a moment.

„You know, you asked him for his opinion." she recalled.

Lassiter didn´t really listen. He was looking at the point where he had found the cell phone last night. Now it was gone of course. Bagged by the forensics for evidence.

„Carlton?" O´Hara addressed him.

„His cell phone lay here, when I came by last night." he told her. „He must have been standing here when he heard the screams. I heard them too. And I was just on the phone."

„It must have sounded awful." she said empathizing.

„It did." he affirmed.

And what a sound it had been. Lassiter tried to remember what it had sounded like. He had heard Spencer´s chuckle after his last comment and then … the scream. A second later he had had a bad crashing sound in his ear when Spencer had dropped the cell. Still the screaming hadn´t stopped. Then he had heard Henry yell something, he hadn´t been able to understand and then there had been silence for a while. Until Shawn´s screaming had come up that was. He must have passed the cell phone again because the volume of his screaming had rose up and then died away again. And then … something else. A growling sound that could have been wind that disturbed the line but somehow Lassiter didn´t believe that. He wanted to, of course. Because it made absolute sense to believe that. It was the reasonable thing to believe. But he just couldn´t. Shawn had been running from something. He had seen something. And though his mind could have been woozy because of what he had seen – seeing the own father being brutally murdered could definitely disturb a person – Lassiter couldn´t believe that it was that simple. No matter how much he wanted to.

„Carlton?" Juliet´s voice woke him up from his musing. She lay a hand on his arm and looked at him asking. „What did you hear?" she asked him. „When you were on the phone with Shawn. What did you hear?"

He just shook his head. „I don´t know." he said and that was the truth. „Something … strange."

He shook his head again and then just entered the house. He had work to do. Juliet followed him inside.

The furnitures were still lying around the way he had found them last night. There were little plastic signs with numbers, placed next to important spots for the pictures the CSI had taken. And there was the chimney of course. The chimney with the blood in front of it. Henry Spencer´s blood. Maybe it was a blessing that there was no body, Lassiter thought. Seeing Henry the way he had seen all the other victims would have been too much, even for him. What it would have done to O´Hara he didn´t even want to think about.

The chimney drew his attention, without him wanting it. Something about this big hole attracted him. Like an accident one would pass on the street. You tried to look away but you just couldn´t help. What happened here last night, he wondered. Obviously something similar to what happened in the other houses, where this murderer had killed before. But this time it had been much bigger. Because the chimney was bigger. Big enough for a whole body instead of just an arm or a leg.

Lassiter had to make himself stop. That was ridiculous. And still he couldn´t help himself but wonder. Why was the ashes all over the place? Why was Henry´s blood not just outside of the fireplace but also on the logs? There had been marks on the body of that old man, he now remembered. Marks that fitted the bars in front of his chimney. Maybe … But no. That was impossible. Or wasn´t it?

„Are you guys finished with the chimney?" he asked the forensics before he even knew he had spoken.

„Yes, detective." came the answer from one of them.

„Did anyone look inside?" Lassiter wanted to know.

The man that had answered him, just looked at him confused. So did O´Hara.

„Why should we?" the CSI asked.

Lassiter didn´t know how to answer that question. He didn´t even know why he was so eager to see the inside of that chimney all the sudden. But something inside of himself just wouldn´t let go of his consciousness before he had thrown at least one look at it. He hold out his hand to the forensic.

„Give me your flashlight." he demanded.

The man gave it to him, still looking uncertain.

„Carlton?" O´Hara sounded worried.

Maybe she had noticed that he had pulled out his gun before he bend down to get into the chimney. He halted for a second to look back at her. But then he decided that any try of an explanation would just make the whole situation ridiculous. Not to mention the fact that his partner and all the others would think him crazy. So he just holstered his gun again and went on without another word. He stepped into the fireplace and when he was beneath the escape, he straighted.

It was dark inside. Of course. He looked up the hole, lighting up there with the flashlight. Up there in the distance he could see the daylight that shone through the other end of the stack. Otherwise there was nothing to be seen.

„Carlton?" O´Hara asked from outside. Now she sounded just confused. „What are you looking for in there?"

He was just about the tell her that he had been wrong, that there was nothing in here, when the beam of his flashlight stroke the wall right above his head. He went back to the point to have another look at it. When he realized what he saw there, his heart skipped a beat.

„Give me your camera." he demanded at once.

„What?" O´Hara asked. „What did you find?"

„Just give me the camera." he urged.

Someone lay it into his hand and he raised it up to take the picture.

„Carlton, you start to scare me." Juliet said after the camera´s flashlight had enlightened the chimney a few times. „Can´t you just tell us what it is?" she begged.

But Lassiter was too much taken aback himself in this moment. The flashing of the camera had shown him something more than he had expected to see. He had though the mark was just on this one spot that he had found. But the flash of the camera had enlightened the whole chimney and now he could see that they were everywhere. They ran up the whole stack. And some of them were just too big to be from human hands.

„Carlton?" O´Hara begged for an answer. „Please, what is it?"

„Marks." he said gloomy. „Claw marks."


	3. Closed Circles

**Closed Circles**

„Mr. Spencer, if you don´t work with me we will never succeed in this process." Dr. Van Dien the psychologist said.

He sat at the end of Shawn´s sickbed, his legs crossed, a clipboard on his knee and an expression on his face like Freud himself. Since he had entered the room Shawn had barely spoken to him and he didn´t intent to change that any time soon. He was lying in his bed, his arms crossed in the typical little stubborn kid pose, occasionally shaking his head instead of an answer to Van Dien´s questions. The doctor, to which Shawn had started to refer to as Funny Dean at least in his mind, shook his head too but he did it in a way a school teacher would do it. Then he would scribble something down on his clipboard. Shawn had started to wonder what the hell he could possibly note down, since they hadn´t talked very much.

„You are not helping yourself, Mr. Spencer." Van Dien said now. Shawn shrugged. „I´m here to help you."

„Help me to what?" Shawn snapped when he finally lost it. „To a straitjacket?"

„Why do you think we´d put you into a straitjacket?" Funny Dean asked.

Shawn just chuckled, totally psyching – haha! – what the guy tried with that. „I don´t say anything." he said. „My mother is a psychologist. So I know very well that one better doesn´t give you guys anything that you can analyse."

Funny Dean just raised an eyebrow and grumbled a: „Aha. Very interesting." and then he scribbled again.

Shawn threw up his hands in frustration. When Funny Dean was done scribbling he looked at him again.

„I understand that you are under the delusion to be a psychic for over five years now." he said.

Before Shawn had even a chance to give a response to that, the voice of the nurse came from outside the door. She was crying for someone to stop and that they couldn´t go in there. Then the door was opened and Lassiter and Jules came in, the very unnerved nurse at their heels.

„Lassie. Jules." Shawn cried delighted.

„I´m sorry, doctor." the nurse apologized immediately. „I told them you are in a session but …"

„I´m sorry for the interruption." Lassiter talked right over her. „I´m detective Carlton Lassiter S.B.P.D. We are here to take Mr. Spencer with us."

„My hero." Shawn cried.

„Excuse me, detective." Funny Dean stood up from his chair. „You can´t take Mr. Spencer with you. He is not released."

„We know that, doctor." Juliet spoke up. „But we need him for an ongoing investigation and I´m afraid this can´t wait."

„Well, it will have to wait." Funny Dean insisted. „I´m not done examining him."

„Oh, you´re not?" Lassiter asked. „Maybe I can help you." He walked over to Shawn and grabbed his wrist. After a second of demonstrated feeling he said: „I feel a pulse. Congratulations. Your patient is alive. He´s fine. Get dressed, Spencer. We´re going."

Shawn immediately swung his legs from the bed to do that. Funny Dean of course did not agree.

„I´m talking about the psychological examination." he cried. „This man is in a serious state of mind."

„Doctor, you don´t tell me anything new with that." Lassiter replied. „He is in that state of mind since I know him. Don´t worry. We take care of him."

„You are not concerned of the fact that he called you Lassie when you came in?" Funny Dean asked.

Shawn and Lassiter both opened their arms at him. „So what?" they asked unisono and then looked at each other startled.

„This is just a nickname, doctor." Juliet explained. „I can assure you, he is fine."

„I just saved you a lot of therapy sessions and probably a burnout syndrome." Lassiter said approaching Funny Dean. „So why don´t you show a little gratitude and save yourself a big embarrassment in the process, by letting Mr. Spencer go and not making me to get him out of here with a S.W.A.T. – team."

Funny Dean stared at Lassiter wide eyed. „You wouldn´t do something like this." he said. When Lassiter didn´t answer the doctor looked at Juliet.

„He would." she and Shawn said unisono.

Maybe it was their conviction when they said this or maybe Funny Dean was just lack of arguments but this time he didn´t object any more. He just insisted that Lassiter should sign some papers, quitclaim deeds in case something should happen as soon as Shawn was out of his sight and professional care. Lassiter went with him willingly to do him this favour.

„Jules." Shawn whispered before she could follow them out. „What is it?" he wanted to know.

„Later." she said. „Before they get the idea to keep us all here for examination." With that she closed the door and gave him time to change back into his normal cloths.

Barely half an hour after they had busted him out of hospital, Shawn sat with them in Lassie´s place, looking down onto the pictures in his hands. He knew exactly what he saw there but he still couldn´t believe it.

„You saw that thing, Spencer." Lassiter interrupted his thoughts. „What is it?"

Shawn sighed, still not able to look away from those pictures. Not before Lassiter tapped his finger on them to get his attention. There he looked up, almost startled. „I … I don´t know." he finally answered the question. „How could I?"

Lassiter and Juliet exchanged a disappointed glance. „Then I guess you don´t know how to kill it either." Lassiter said.

„To what?" Shawn cried. „No. I´m not a Ghostbuster."

Lassiter stood up and started to walk up and down in his frustration.

„But there must be something we can do." Jules insisted. „This thing is killing people."

„I know." Shawn threw the photos down to the table, making her and Lassiter halt and look at him. „You don´t need to tell me, okay?" he cried. „I saw it."

Juliet lowered her gaze. „I know." she said. „I´m sorry."

„You are the only witness we have." Lassiter said after a moment. „You must be able to tell us something."

„Witness?" Shawn cried. „Lassie, this is not a usual case."

„Oh, it is a case, Spencer. This thing is responsible for the killings we investigate for three weeks. And I want it dead. So are you with us or not?"

Shawn looked into the detective´s eyes without any sign of the usual humor that belonged into the young face. „This thing killed my father." he said. „What do you think?"

„Then help us." Lassiter replied. „How can we kill it?"

Shawn shrugged. „Silver bullets?"

„Come on, Spencer. You are a psychic. Give me something to work with."

„Oh, so all the sudden you belief I´m a psychic." Shawn cried.

„What do you want to hear from me now?" Lassiter snapped. „We are sitting in my living room and seriously discussing how to kill a monster. How bad can it possibly become after that?"

Shawn wanted to say something in response but he had to agree that Lassiter was right. He had no right to complain about anything right now. And an argument was not cheering him up the way it was supposte to anyway. So he linked his fingers in front of him and nodded.

„Listen, Shawn." Juliet tried it again. „Think. There must be something. Maybe something you saw … or sensed … or …"

„No." he denied.

„Then this is completely pointless." Lassiter snapped.

„No, its not. I don´t know anything about monsters, right." he repeated and then looked at them. „But I know someone who does."

...

„What you describe sounds like a Vasingo." Willow Gimbley said. She raised a hand and then led them through her shop until they reached a shelf at the back.

„A what?" Shawn asked.

„Vasingo." the young Goth repeated. „A demon that is known to be hiding in dark places. A maneater."

„You got _that_ right." Lassiter agreed gloomy.

Willow took something out of the shelf. A viol. She opened it and sniffed, then decided that it was not what she had been looking for and put it back. She kept looking through the shelf.

„Willow." Shawn addressed her again. „We need to know how to kill this … Vertigo thing."

„Vasingo." she corrected him.

„Whatever." Lassiter snapped. „How can we kill it?"

„You can´t." Willow replied. „A Vasingo is a demon. Immortal. You can´t kill an immortal beast."

She paused for a moment and then added: „You have to banish it."

„Banish?"

„Yes. The Vasingo is a creature from the world of shadows. It only comes to our world to feed. The chimneys are the gates it uses to come here. Like a mirror is a window for evil spirits, or a lake for …"

„Willow." Shawn interrupted her. „Could we concentrate on the …"

„Vasingo. Of course. Sorry. Well, as I said, it comes through the chimney to get into our world but it can´t stay in our world for long. Here it is like a fish on land. If it stays too long it risks to dry out. Figuratively."

„That was the reason why it didn´t kill me." Shawn realized. „It couldn´t follow me any longer." He turned back to Willow. „What can we do?"

She went back searching her shelf. Her eyes lit up when she finally found what she had been looking for and she took it out. It was a little box. She presented it to them.

„What is that?" Juliet wanted to know.

Willow opened the box and they looked inside. It was filled with a yellow powder.

„Thats charm-powder." Willow explained. „You have to cover the Vasingo with it. Its like salt for garden snails."

„Are you kidding?" Lassiter asked. „That´s all?"

„No. Just the first ingredient."

„Okay, what else is to do?" the detective demanded to know.

„Well …" Willow bit her lip. „Thats the dangerous part. You have to block its way, when it comes out."

„Oh, hey." Lassiter cried. „If that is all."

„How do we do this?" Shawn demanded to know ignoring Lassiter´s cynicism.

„You have to form a circle." Willow explained. „The Vasingo won´t be able to cross this line when it is covered with the powder. When it goes back to its own world later the ban will keep it from coming back."

„Later?" Juliet asked uncomfortable.

„It has to go back on his own behalf." Willow explained. „Either by being chased back or because it can´t stay in our dimension any longer."

„Great. And how are we supposte to chase this thing back?" Lassiter asked.

„Or hold it in place long enough so it will run out of … whatever it breaths?" Juliet agreed.

„Well … I already told you. Its the dangerous part."

„That´s ridiculous." Lassiter stated.

„I do it." Shawn said without hesitation and made Lassiter jerk his head in his direction.

„Spencer, are you crazy?" he asked.

„This doctor at the hospital certainly thought so." Shawn replied. When he saw that the question was still in Lassiter´s eyes he skipped the joke and said: „This is the only chance we have, Lassie. You wanted to know what we can do. Now that´s it." When Lassiter still didn´t say anything, Shawn asked him the same question Lassiter had asked him before: „Are you with me or what? I can hardly form a circle all on my own."

„But you can´t do it with just three people either." Willow added.

„How many people would we need?" Shawn asked her.

She shrugged. „How big is the fireplace?"

Shawn exchanged a glance with Lassiter and Juliet. „Gus?" she suggested uncertain.

„You wanna think about it." Willow said. „Everybody in this circle can die. Just because the Vasingo can´t pass you, doesn´t mean that it can´t kill you."

„I wouldn´t ask Gus to do this anyway." Shawn said. „This is my responsibility. Not his."

Behind him Lassiter sighed. „Not just yours." he said when Shawn looked at him asking.

„He´s right." Juliet agreed. „We´re in this together."

„But you´re still too less." Willow argued. She hesitated for a moment. „This thing … it did kill those people in the papers, didn´t it?" The three of them nodded. She took another breath and lowered her gaze for a moment. „I´ll come with you." she then decided.

„And me too." a voice from behind them came up, startling them all into a jump.

„Damn, Stu." Shawn exhaled when he saw the owner of the voice. „Since when are you here?"

„Long enough." Stu said looking at his sister. „I won´t let you do this alone." he stated. There was a light of bride coming up in Willow´s eyes.

„The circle may not be broken." she recalled. „If only one of us brakes out and runs …"

„I won´t run." her big brother promised. He turned to Shawn and said: „I owe it to you. Trust me. I can do that."

Shawn looked into the eyes of this man, he had considered the biggest geek when he had first met him. Now he saw an honest wish to help and what was even more important, determination. This guy believed in weird things like werewolfs and monsters. He knew what he got himself into. If he said he wouldn´t run, Shawn believed that he ment it. He nodded, accepting the offer.

„I guess with that we are enough." Willow stated.

„There is just one problem." Lassiter brought up. „Even if I would believe that this would work. How are we supposte to know where this thing will show up next time?"

Shawn thought it over for a moment and then all the sudden remembered something he hadn´t payed attention to before. Why he had no idea, neither did he know why he remembered it now. But in this moment he just knew it.

„We can attract it." he said and raised a hand to his temple. „With cinnamon."

„Are you kidding?" Lassiter asked sceptical.

„No. I see it now. There was cinnamon in each and every one of the crime scenes so far."

„Its Christmas, Spencer. Of course there was cinnamon."

„But that is actually quiet possible." Willow supported Shawn´s theory. „The Vasingo is known to be attracted by dark sweetness."

„Dark sweetness, really?" Lassiter asked doubtful.

„Do we have any other choice, Carlton?" Juliet asked him.

He didn´t answer. Of course they hadn´t.

...

They had prepared the chimney with a trip hazard of the charm-powder, that would let the magical dust fall down on the Vasingo as soon as it came out of the fireplace. There was a heap of cinnamon biscuits, where usually the logs would lie. The decoy was placed and the trap ready to snap. Now all they could do was wait.

„Well …" Willow said. „I could make some snacks for everybody." she offered. The others nodded and she went to the kitchen. All the others were left behind to deal with the waiting on their own. Talking was not an issue. Not today. Not even for Shawn. Or maybe especially not for him.

He was wandering up and down the living room. His father´s living room. The house of his childhood. Now it was the place where he would face his biggest nightmare. He passed the vitrine several times. It was the only furniture that had survived the storm of violence, this beast had brought in here some nights ago. At Christmas eve. Sure they had rearranged the rest and even the dust and blood had been cleaned off. At least as far as this had been possible. There was still some of it on the stones in front of the fireplace. Some marks were just impossible to clean off and his dad´s blood was one of it.

Shawn had taken good care of not stepping on it on his rounds he made through the room. Maybe he had payed too much attention to it. Otherwise he had noticed the contains of the vitrine earlier. It was a collection one could call the collection of Henry´s life. Dokuments, decorations and other stuff dedicated to Henry himself but also to Shawn´s mother and Shawn starting with first grade up until today. A collection of thoughts and stages, that practically showed all of their triumphs in life. One of them was a letteropener his mother had gotten from the university where she had promoted. It read the congratulations for her good work in the field of psychology. It was of pure silver, they had said. Now it lay there between all the other stuff on a special place, Henry had chosen for it, glistening more dark than bright. Shawn sighed. A whole life represented in one vitrine.

On the other side of the room, Lassiter tried to keep his tension down by checking his gun over and over again. After a while O´Hara came over to join him.

„I can´t believe we´re really doing this." he said.

„Same here." she agreed. After a moment of silence she said: „You know, I feel like a coward with this plan. With me staying behind the line, I mean."

„Not at all." Lassiter objected. „Think of it. If this thing comes at one of us, you are our only protection. And by the way. Who says that it is safe behind us?"

„Right." she agreed trying not to think about the whole thing and how seriously outrageous it was.

Willow came back with a plate of snacks. She put it on the coffee table.

„No thanks." Lassiter said. „I´m not frustrated enough to eat. Maybe later, when this is over."

„You´re not inspiring confidence." Shawn said.

Lassiter had to admit that this was probably true. „Sorry." he said. „This was meant as a joke."

„Better leave the joking to the real experts." Shawn replied with a weak grin.

Lassiter gave him a face as weak as the grin had been. They sucked in keeping up the usual charade and they knew it. Still, they wouldn´t let go of it. It was all they had left, to hold onto the reality they all were used to.

For a while they ate in silence always staring at the chimney. Listening. Waiting.

„What do we do, if it doesn´t come today?" Stu wanted to know after a while. „Do we come back tomorrow? And the day after tomorrow? Until it comes?"

„Good reference, dude." Shawn said without taking his eyes from the chimney. „But we won´t have to come back. He´ll come. Today."

„How can you be so sure?" Juliet asked, her voice low as if she was afraid to talk too loud. Shawn didn´t answer but she understood him anyway. They all did. He just knew.

The hours went by. Outside thunder started to come up in the distance and at last there was rain falling, supported by occasional lightnings.

„Great." Lassiter mumbled looking out of the window. „Had to be. What is a night of monster hunting without a thunderstorm?"

Right in this moment a sound came from out of the chimney that made them all halt and listen. Lassiter´s head had swirled around at it. „Please tell me that was the sound of the wind." he said.

„Shhh." Shawn made and closed in a little, listening hard.

Another sound came, this time clearly a snarl from deep inside the chimney.

„That´s him." Shawn said.

„Quick, build the circle." Willow cried and jumped up.

They all hurried to her, taking each others hands – wrists, in Shawn and Lassiter´s case – creating a half ring around the fireplace. All but Juliet that was. She stayed outside of the circle, her gun in her hand. Another snarl came from the chimney and as if to support the sound, a lightning stroke outside of the house. Juliet took her position behind Shawn. She lay a hand on his shoulder, partly to assure him that she was there, securing his back, partly to steady her own nerves. From another point of view it could have looked as if she was holding him hostage and using him as a shield. Only that her gun didn´t aim at him. It was pointed at the chimney, through the space between Shawn´s and Stu´s hips. Like a cowboy it shot through her mind. But to hold the gun higher was just impossible at the moment. Her hands were shaking and the muscles in her arm felt as if they were of rubber. It was reassuring to her that she was not the only one that was so scared. Under her hand, she could feel Shawn´s heavy breathing. Though his breaths steadied a little now. Maybe her touch helped him as well. She liked to think that.

The chimney was still empty. No sign of the Vasingo. Instead the thunderstorm outside seemed to increase. Another lightning stroke and around them the lights started to flicker.

„What the hell?" Lassiter mumbled under his breath.

„Quiet." Shawn whispered. His eyes were fixed on the fireplace. There it was again. The snarl of the beast, closer this time. „Its coming." Shawn whispered and this time he didn´t sounded scared. He sounded excited. As if he couldn´t wait to see it. The snarl that came out of the chimney was deep and ongoing as if the chimney itself was breathing in that guttural way. It was so deep that they could not only hear it but also feel it in their stomachs. As if something in that sound was reaching out for them and tried to pull their insides out even before its owner had a chance to do so.

Still it didn´t show up. Shawn felt Lassiter´s and Stu´s hands tighten around his wrists. Juliet was clinging into his shoulder too. „Come on." he whispered at the chimney. „What are you waiting for."

Again a lightning flashed up. This time it must have hit something very close, because the thunder that followed was devastating, they could all feel it in their bones. They flinched a little at the sound and next to him, Shawn could hear Lassiter swear under his breath. Again the lights flickered, harder this time until they finally went out completely.

„Oh, no." Stu breathed. „That´s not good."

„No one must leave the circle." Willow recalled. „No matter what."

It was a good thing they had lightened some candles before, so they at least had some light left to see what was happening. And the flashes from the storm of course. The cold blue light that illuminated the scene always for a few seconds only, leaving them almost blind after that, despite the lights of the candles.

Again they could hear the deep snarl of the beast. Now it was very close. Too close actually. They all looked back at the chimney. It was pitch black dark there but they could see it anyway. Something was there in the fireplace. Something that was even darker than the darkness of the room. It sat there inside the chimney, its red eyes glowing out at them. It was sitting there like a lowering cat. It snarled again, deep and growling.

„Oh, my god." Shawn could hear Jules whisper behind him.

„It has to come out to tip over the powder." Willow said.

Lassiter clawed his fingers into Shawn´s wrist. He stepped from one foot to the other. Shawn knew he wanted to pull his gun on that thing, but if he would do that he would brake the circle and maybe chase the beast off before it had touched the powder. The powder that was necessary to send it back to the darkness where it belonged. Dammit, why didn´t it come out? Was it afraid? Did it guess something? If it would vanish back into the chimney before it touched the powder they would never get a chance to get it ever again. It had to be now or never.

„Jules. Take over my place." Shawn said.

„What?" she cried. „No."

„Do it." he insisted already in the process of letting go Lassiter´s and Stu´s hands. He had to wriggle himself out of their grips but eventually they let him go. „Keep up the circle." he said stepping forward.

„Shawn, what are you doing?" Juliet cried but hurried to take Lassiter´s and Stu´s hands so the circle wouldn´t be broken. Shawn didn´t listen to her though. All his attentions were focused on that thing in the fireplace. The thing he still couldn´t see but that was there anyway. The thing that had killed his dad.

„You know who I am." he talked to it. „Am I right?" The red eyes narrowed and Shawn nodded. „Yeah." he said. „That´s why you´re here, ain´t you? To finish what you started. You didn´t get me last time and that´s really eaten you up, doesn´t it? I bet. Well, I´m here now. Come on. Come on and get me."

He rolled up his sleeve and presented his left arm to the beast like one would present a sausage to a shy dog. His eyes were almost equally glowing like the eyes of the beast.

„Spencer, what the hell are you doing?" Lassiter hissed behind him. Again Shawn didn´t react. It was as if he couldn´t hear them anyone.

„Come on." he said again. „Come and get me." The snarling sounded angry now. Angry and hungry. „What are you waiting for!" he shouted at the beast and this time it didn´t just snarl at him. It lunged forward, out of the fireplace ripping down the line that had held the package over the fireplace and covering itself with the magical powder. But that it didn´t even notice. A lightning stroke right in the moment it jumped and showed the thing in every detail for two seconds. Its mouth with the two big saber teeth wide open and its huge paws with the razor-sharp claws that were reaching out for Shawn. Juliet screamed. They all screamed. And then it was Shawn who cried out in pain when the teeth of the beast pierced into his arm. He fell to the ground, the heavy weight of the beast pressing him down. Blood was gushing out of his arm where it bit and ripped at him in its hunger. He was surprised that he didn´t even feel that much pain. Maybe that would come later. There were some hot spots along his other arm, where the claws were clinging into his flesh. This he could feel but not so much more. And the fact that he was bleeding like hell.

„Son of a bitch!" Lassiter yelled and then there were shots in the air.

Shawn could see how the thing got hit several times from two sides. It shifted over him, but still didn´t let go of his arm. When he felt that his right arm was free again, he reached into his pocket and pulled the letteropener out, he had packed there before. In one quick move he rammed it into the throat of the beast over him. Now it did let go, crying out in a howling sound so loud that they all thought their heads would explode.

„Close the circle." Willow cried. „Hurry, before it escapes."

Strong hands grabbed Shawn from behind and dragged him up and away from that beast. He somehow managed it to come to his feet and a second later he found himself standing between Lassiter and Jules their arms around his waist to hold him. The Vasingo was still there. But it was wounded. In another instant light of a lightning they could see smoke coming out of the wound the silver letteropener had inflicted. It fixed its eyes on Shawn and they all could see the hate in them.

Shawn felt a smile on his face. Yeah, that´s right, he thought. _I_ did this to you. Have a good look. And as if it had heard him, it opened its mouth and snarled at him with new regained anger. And then it lunged at him again, its mouth wide open, aiming for his face. Shawn closed his eyes and turned his head aside, waiting for the inevitable. A shot rang out again, right next to him and then he felt the wind brushing against his cheek when the Vasingo snapped its jaws together just an inch away from him. Shawn opened his eyes and saw Jules holding out her gun. Stu had his arm over her shoulder, she herself was holding onto Shawn with her other arm, so the circle was still closed. But her bullet had hit the eye of the beast and now it was howling again, in much deeper pain than before. The same smoke that had come out of its throat was now rising from the hollow socket where the red eye had been before. In fact it came out of some of the shotwounds Shawn could see now.

The Vasingo snarled one last time and then turned back to the chimney to run away and lick its wounds somewhere in the dark. The five comrades just watched it vanish and after it was gone everything was almost unnaturally quiet. Neither of them dared to say anything, still expecting it to come back after all. But it didn´t come back.

„Is it over?" Stu finally asked into the darkness.

As if to answer his question the lights came back on, setting the world and everything else back to normal.

„I think it is." Willow said with a relieved smile.

„We made it." Jules breathed next to Shawn, almost unable to believe it was true. He chuckled and wanted to say something to her, when his legs gave in and he went to the ground. Or so it would have happened if Lassie and Jules hadn´t still hold him and caught his fall. Carefully they lay him to the ground.

„We need bandages." Lassiter barked. „Quick. Before he bleeds out."

„Shawn." Jules cried. „Shawn, you hear me?"

„We so … kicked its ass, didn´t we?" he said.

The two partners looked at each other smirking.

„Yeah, Spencer." Lassiter said tired and patted his shoulder. „We did." Then the detective turned to Stu: „I don´t believe I´m saying this. But I guess the silver bullets were a good idea after all."

„One can never be prepared enough." Stu replied with a shy grin.

Shawn laughed and closed his eyes when he felt dizziness overpower him.

„Just stay awake, Shawn." Juliet talked to him. He could feel her and Lassiter´s hands on each shoulder.

„At least its gone." he breathed. „Now it can never come back."

„Actually …" Willow said when she sat the first aid box down. „The ban doesn´t work _forever_."

„What?" Juliet cried in disbelieve.

„It only banished the Vasingo for twenty years." Willow explained. „Thats the period of palingenesis in the world of shadows. I´m sorry. But those are the rules."

Juliet looked down at Shawn. But he had already lay his head back, his eyes closed, trying to recover while Lassie and Stu bandaged his arm. Twenty years, he thought. Well. At least something. Let´s see who will be faster next time. Because one thing he was sure about. The Vasingo would not forget him. When he came next time, it would be for him. Only him. But that was okay because he wouldn´t forget either. Twenty years from now. Twenty years. Surely the only appointment in his entire life he would keep in mind over such a long time. Only why was he so convinced that it would happen on Christmas eve again?


End file.
